Why Can't You
by Wraith Ink-Slinger
Summary: A glimpse at William and Spencer Reid's relationship, in the form of a rather loud conversation.  Oneshot.


Why Can't You

A/N: Those darn plot bunnies sank their teeth into me again while I was watching NCIS. So, instead of working on my four-ish other ongoing projects, I'm doing this! Just a note: this isn't really related to my other two stories including William Reid.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable. Including, but not limited to: Criminal Minds or the characters.

Warning: This contains mild manhandling of a child. It's really not that bad, but I'd rather warn people than make 'em angry… So, yeah.

-/\-

_It is a wise father that knows his own child._

_~William Shakespeare_

-/\-

"Damn it, Spencer!" William Reid stormed into his house, dragging his son behind him with a bruising grip on the boy's upper arm.

He moved Spencer forcefully into the hallway and slammed the door shut before pulling his son further into the house. They stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and William released Spencer's arm. "Do you want to tell me _why_ I had to go to the school _again_ to get you from the principal's office?"

Spencer's one un-blackened eye took on a confused look, his split lips quirking downwards in a contemplative frown. "The principal told you why…" He began.

"Don't get smart with me, Spencer!" William gripped his son's jaw tightly, forcing the boy to look up with him.

Hissing at the pain his father's action caused his split lip, Spencer jerked back slightly but William didn't release him. Unsure of what else to do, the 10-year-old stared up at his father, who stared back. After another moment, William huffed angrily and released Spencer's jaw, only shove him roughly back towards the kitchen table. "_Sit_ down." He demanded.

Spencer did as he was told. "I want _you_ to tell me why." William elaborated, as though he was speaking to a slow child, though Spencer was anything but.

"I…" Spencer started, weighing his words carefully. "I was involved in an altercation."

"You were _fighting_." William corrected.

"_I_ wasn't doing the fighting… I was being fought against." Spencer replied, looking down.

"_What_ are you talking about?" William asked, frowning down at the boy.

"More accurately, I was being beaten up. I… It was Jason Briggs again, I…"

"The principal told me you were fighting, Spencer." The man's voice was still steely.

"And he received that information from a teacher who in turn heard that information from Jason, who told the teacher I had been making fun of him." Spencer mumbled.

"And were you?"

"No! No, I was just pointing out how the answer he'd given in class was technically incorrect. I thought…"

"You thought what, Spencer? Did you think that was a _good_ idea?"

"But, I thought… I mean, he wouldn't want to be wrong, he would just end up looking foolish later and I… I was…" Spencer took a deep breath. "I was just trying to be helpful."

William sighed and turned away, walking towards the kitchen door. Spencer thought he was going to walk out, but he suddenly whirled back around to face his son. "Why can't you just be _normal_?" The man demanded.

Spencer remained silent. "Why can't you just be interested in the things that normal boys are? Why can't you play sports and go camping and just try to fit in?" William continued. "I've tried to help you, but… you just do what you want anyway. You go on correcting people and spending all your time holed up in a library and reading these huge books-"

The man cut off and took the few steps required to cross to the kitchen table. Spencer flinched at the sudden action, but William only reached for a thick volume Spencer had left on his placemat that morning. "I mean, look at this," William hefted the tome of _The Collected Works of Charles Dickens,_ which Spencer had gotten at the library, in the air. "You got this yesterday and how far along are you?"

"I… I'm almost finished." Spencer answered hesitantly, wondering if the answer would lead to more shouting.

"You see what I mean? That's just…" William trailed off and turned away, dropping the book on the table with a dull thud.

After a moment of silence, Spencer spoke up. "Mom says…" He began to say before William snapped back to look at him.

"You mother isn't well, Spencer! She shouldn't… _encourage_ you like she does." William growled.

Spencer looked down and, despite his best efforts, he could feel moisture welling up in his eyes. He tried to blink it away, unsure of what else to do. On the one hand, his mother was always telling him to be who he was and to never be sorry for it. On the other hand, his father was shouting at him and telling him that who he was… was wrong. "I'm sorry…" Spencer tried, still not looking up at the man before him.

He heard William sigh. "Spencer… your intelligence is… don't get me wrong, it's amazing, but… why can't you try just a little harder to _fit in_ instead of sticking out so much? Why is that so difficult for you?"

After a beat of silence and wondering whether or not his father actually wanted an answer, Spencer shrugged slightly. "I don't know."

"Well, you need to figure it out. I'm at the end of my rope here, Spencer." William snapped.

Then there was nothing but silence stretching out between them. The ticking of the wall clock that would have normally been there had even been silenced when Diana had torn through the house a week ago, insisting the tick-tock of the clocks was brainwashing them all. Finally, William spoke again. "Where are your glasses?"

Spencer chanced a glance up through his shaggy bangs. "Broken." He muttered.

Another sigh. "Go to your room."

The boy seized the opportunity and all but bolted from the room, not even daring to snatch his book on the way out.

To his credit, he did try to figure out why it was so difficult for him to "be normal." He spent a good week thinking about it in between school and minor altercations and taking care of his mother, since his father was increasingly absent. But all thought on the subject abruptly stopped when he came out one morning to find a sealed letter waiting for him at the table.

-/\-

_Come mothers and fathers  
Throughout the land,  
And do not criticize  
What you can't understand_

_~Bob Dylan_

-/\-

A/N: Well that was kinda depressing… I usually try to give William Reid a better chance, but I felt like making him a jerk today. Hope you all enjoyed! Feedback would be treasured if you're willing!

Oh, about the end quote- I know I've used it before, but it just fit this piece so well and not many people read the other story I used it for anyway. Plus, it's got the added bonus of being from Bob Dylan (if you've seen the episode "The Instincts", you might get the significance there).


End file.
